The Word of Your Body
by A Touch of Insanity
Summary: Spock and Kirk on a hill top. Let the seduction begin. done in the style of Spring Awakening, for those who recognize the title . K/S slash.


They sat upon a hilltop crusted in fading sunlight. Spock had arranged a short, carefully calculated distance between them, knowing that close proximity to the Captain might affect the meditation he had planned. But it was of no use anyways.

"It's so peaceful," Jim sighed. His eyes left tangible trails on his face, but Spock didn't turn to look at him. Feeling oddly expressive, he voiced his thoughts.

"Sometimes, when it is quiet like this, I imagine myself as a Vulcan professor with my educated colleagues, my laboratories, and the students of the academy will come to me with their questions." He felt lighter having said it, figuring that Jim would appreciate his openness.

"Really, Spock. You're such a robot!" He snorted, continuing, "The blank, determined faces of the Vulcans are all a mask – to hide their overflowing emotion." He moved closer. "Trust me, there are only three ways a man can go: he can let emotion defeat him, like Bones, and lose control, he can drink it away, like Scotty, and be a drunk, or he can bide his time and let emotion work for him, like me," he paused as if considering something deeply, moving so close that they were nearly touching. "Think of your feelings as a pale of whole milk – one person sweats and stirs, churning it into butter, like Sulu for example. Another frets and spills her milk and cries all night, like Uhura. But me?" Jim's smirk was positively lethal. "Well, I'm like a pussycat: I just skim. Off. The cream."

"Just 'skim off the cream'? But what about the-" Spock stopped. Jim was laughing at him. It was most unusual. "Jim?"

Jim sung softly, his voice low and unusually deadly, "Come cream away the bliss; travel the world within my lips. Fondle the pearl of your distant dreams. Haven't you heard the word of your body?" His warm blue eyes were locked on his face. "Oh, you're gonna be wounded. Oh, you're gonna be my wound. Oh, you're gonna bruise, too. Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise." Spock is shocked to find lips on his own, like comets, fast and ignited in a strange juxtaposition of fire and ice. He jerks back automatically from the blistering contact, surprised to find his heart beating the smallest bit faster.

"Oh god," he breathed, surprised at his own reaction and even more so at the sentiment lodged behind it.

"Mmm, I know." The smirk is smug now, with a hint of danger nestled in the very corner of his mouth. "Looking back thirty years from now, this moment will seem unbelievably beautiful."

It didn't make sense, the logic was unsound. So much would happen in those three long decades. He needed to _know_. "And in the meantime?"

"Well, why not?" Then there was a hand on his waist and those scorching lips were dancing on his again, but for some reason, this time – whether it's shock from a lack of similar contact for a long time, or the build up of everything that had happened in the past couple of years – he met the touch with something from deep inside of him, something he wasn't aware he possessed. He tried to quench the flame, to swallow it, but the raw energy consumed him. He lost himself in the mouth of his only true friend, his brother, his _something more_. But in truth, Jim was everything more, so why would he waste his time on him? The best he could do was to sit back and enjoy the moment before the Captain realized that it was a regretful accident.

All the same, he found that Jim was quite correct in his conjecture; he was bruised, deeply. He ached inside with an intensity that nearly frightened him. There too was the raw wound of _never good enough_ that was reopened every time he encountered someone that saw the half-Human or half-Vulcan and never the full person – his father, his cousin, his classmates, the Vulcan Elders, Starfleet Command, his students, and now his crew. And then there was Jim, slicing deeper with every touch, every word, every glimpse of that truly unparalleled man, all telling him that he would never be anywhere near equal to one James T. Kirk. The only difference was that with Jim, it didn't hurt so much when the wound grew deeper, more prominent. It felt like it was a pain that belonged to him. Jim made it alright to hurt.

He broke softly, confused. "On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps we would only talk."

"So are you sorry we-"

He nearly laughed, it was so absurd. "No. I love you, Jim. As I have never loved anyone." It felt so foreign on his tongue, to be so free with his emotion, but at the same he would not lie or let Jim think he was anything less than content. This time would be different - there would be no unspoken sentiment for one he held above all others, the one he would allow to die because he simple wasn't enough.

The smirk returned, so bright it was blinding. "And so you should."

It was not quite the same sentiment, but it was Jim and it was enough.

* * *

**Sorry, I have Spring Awakening on the brain. By the way, for all who do not recognize this (which is probably a lot of people), you should go look up Spring Awakening because it's one of the most astounding musicals ever. Oh, and I own basically nothing from this little snippet. Not Star Trek nor the lyrics to "Word of Your Body (Reprise)". So don't sue me, I guess. **


End file.
